An Interval in Time
by XlaraC
Summary: Grim Potter is wondering something about her name, and what it might mean, and she knows just the teacher to go and see. fem!Harry.


_**Disclaimer: **__Nope._

_Would make a bit more sense if you read 'What's in a Name?' first, though I suppose you don't necessarily need to._

**An Interval in Time**

She couldn't keep herself from flinching as she opened the door, though she knew that that imbecile, Lockhart, was long gone. That didn't stop her from remembering all of the horrible conversations he had forced on her, nor did it remove from her memory one, torturously long detention that she had served with him in this very room.

If she ever heard somebody repeat her name in threes again, she didn't think she could be held accountable for her actions. Lockhart had an effect on people like that.

But, of course, as she looked around she saw blissfully bare walls, instead of the (what seemed like) millions of smiling, waving Gilderoy Lockharts there had been only a year ago. And, in the middle of these bare walls, sat the man she had come here to see.

"Professor Lupin?" she asked hesitantly. She was, after all, not here on invitation.

His head snapped up, and he looked most wild and unmannerly. Professor Snape had said he was sick the day before, and he certainly looked the part at that moment.

It seemed to take him a moment to recognize her – as if he wasn't quite himself – but when he did, the now familiar softness returned to his eyes, although she took note that his face retained its drawn, tired look. "Grim."

She remained in the doorway, wondering if she should leave and talk to him another time. He didn't look in any way up to a conversation, especially not the kind of conversation she wanted to have. He must have noticed her hesitation, because he smiled gently at her.

"Come on in. What can I help you?"

She relaxed, moving slowly into the room, noticing things that she hadn't from her place at the door. The walls weren't exactly bare, though compared to the garishness they held last year, they could be called that. Instead of being filled with photographs, there were a few posters of strange magical creatures here in there, as well as a few shelves of books. As she took a seat, she could make out titles such as _Spells for Dangerous Enemies _and _How to Tame the Beast_. She was curious about the last one, but she knew if she asked that she would never get to the point.

She turned to the man in the room; he had mentioned to her, offhandedly, that he had known her parents in school. Many people here had, she knew, but he had actually _been_ in school with them, rather than have taught them. And, by her estimations, he was about the same age as they would have been, and was probably in the same year. Plus, he had been a Gryffindor…

"I wondered…" she began hesitantly, before driving on. "Professor, I wondered if I could ask you something."

He blinked at her, and his face lost some of the drawn look, looking almost… happy? "Of course, Grim; you can ask me anything."

She paused again. "It has to do with my parents."

He moved back from her slightly, and she knew he was surprised, for a sudden sad look had crossed his face. She wondered if, perhaps, he had been minimized his supposed friendship with her parents by saying he had 'known them'; the look that crossed his face then was the look she imagined would be on her face if she ever lost Ron or Hermione, or even Fred or George. It was what she imagined would be the look of missing a dear, dear friend.

It was gone quickly, though. "I see. What is it you want to know?"

She watched him. "You said you knew them in school, right? Were you in the same year as them?"

He was sad again, but it wasn't as obvious. Perhaps in just the lines around his eyes, and the set of his mouth, could she tell he was sad. "Yes, I was in the same year as them. Same house, too, as I'm sure you recall."

She nodded slightly indifferently. "Well, I wondered about…" She didn't think she would get to her point that way, so started and tried again. "I was in Divination the other day, with Ron, and we were doing tea leaves. You know, where you drink your tea and read the future?" She knew he knew, but couldn't help it. "And… well, Professor Trelawney said something that got me thinking."

The sadness was now mixed with slight amusement. "Ah, yes; I heard all about your approaching death. From what I've heard, she predicts that a student will die every year, just to add some excitement."

Grim wrinkled her brow; she hadn't expected him to have heard, but – of course – it _had_ travelled around amongst the students fairly fast. Why hadn't she guessed that the teachers might have overheard? Especially one as well liked as Professor Lupin. The students were bound to talk more freely around him. "Well, that's a relief, I suppose; at least I don't need to worry about death anytime soon," she tried to joke feebly. They were getting closer to what she really wanted to say.

He raised an eyebrow, and she knew what he was going to ask before he did. "What does this have to do with your parents, though?"

She took a deep breath. Nothing like the present. "Well, a death omen is called, you know… a Grim."

He looked at her with the deepest pity in that moment, and yet for the first time since she'd begun seeing that look, she didn't feel indignant about it. She felt like he knew her, truly knew her; almost like he was family. This feeling was, after all, one of the reasons why she had come to him to talk about it. "Ah."

"They called me Grim," she said pointlessly. "And, I couldn't help but think, you know? It's a death omen… maybe, it was kind of – "

"Absolutely not," he said firmly. "Grim, you were named after a dear friend of your father's. Under no circumstances could it have been your fault for their death, just because of your name."

She sighed; it made her happy, she realized, to hear these words. Hermione and Ron had both said the same thing ("It's absolutely ridiculous, this death omen nonsense," Hermione had said, while Ron had continued mocking Trelawney form when she had announced the 'prediction'), but hearing it from someone who – it seemed – had known her parents personally made it so. She felt much better, lighter somehow.

"I know it wasn't my fault, but I just feel…"

"It's called Survivor's Guilt. I think we all felt it a little, after the war. You, I'd imagine, feel it more potently than others, because of your… special circumstances." He worded carefully.

Grim snorted. "Yea, special." She felt horrible for mocking him, but he held up a hand to stop her from apologizing.

"It's alright, I'm not offended. But, back on the point; as I said, I knew your parents, and the man you were named for. You have no reason to be ashamed of your name." The smile was back. "As I recall, your father was quite adamant that you be named what you are."

Grim smiled. She loved hearing about her parents. "Thanks, Professor," she said quietly, getting up to leave.

"Anytime. Now, why don't we get started on your Patronus? You're already here."

Her smile grew brighter as he said that, her worries about her name – and the tragedy it might have brought her family – forgotten as they began working to fight off fear.


End file.
